


The Heart of the Storm

by frumpkinspicelatte



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 1 (Critical Role), Family Feels, Found Family, Gen, Kid Fic, Pre-Canon, which means KID PIKE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28020609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frumpkinspicelatte/pseuds/frumpkinspicelatte
Summary: Grog's first night sleeping in the Trickfoot house.
Relationships: Grog Strongjaw & Pike Trickfoot
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61





	The Heart of the Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [knightinsourarmor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinsourarmor/gifts).



> Just some short and sweet Pike and Grog content that I couldn't help gifting to Charlie, number one Pike fan!

Pike awoke with a start at the loud rumbles shaking the cottage. An earthquake? A storm? Someone attacking? There was no one at the window, at least.

Was Wilhand alright? She poked her head into his room. He was rolling over in his sleep. Perhaps he had awoken for a few seconds, but he seemed to be fine enough. That was a relief. Pike had always known him to be a sturdy man, and despite his wrinkled face he showed few signs of slowing down anytime soon, but he was still weakened from the goliath attack despite all of the healing Pike had done. There had just been so  _ many _ of them, and they were so  _ big, _ and Pike was still a young and inexperienced healer. If it hadn’t been for that one who protected him–Grog, he had said his name was–

Oh. Well, that would explain it all, wouldn’t it. Pike gingerly tiptoed into the living room. None of their furniture was big enough for a goliath, so Grog had to lie on the floor. They had a rug, at least, and they had draped several blankets over him, but it couldn’t be terribly comfortable.

He looked peaceful enough, though. And he was snoring. Very loudly. 

Pike had never heard anyone make such a loud sound, and this was just what he was like while  _ sleeping _ . Such a man would be terrifying if he used his size, and his power, and his strength, for bad things.

With the way Grog’s herd seemed to derive joy from beating up a tiny defenseless old gnome–for even if Wilhand was not weak, he stood no defense against a herd of goliaths–and the way he had stood alone against them, it seemed like he was already learning to use his strength for good things. Pike didn’t know much about goliaths or their herds, but if there was one thing she knew from watching Wilhand with the rest of the Trickfoot family, it was that when you grew up surrounded by bad people, it could be hard to break away and do the right thing. Especially if they would literally beat you half to death for it.

But even though Grog was a kind and gentle man, these snores would still take some getting used to.

She tiptoed closer. On second thought, it wasn’t so bad. Sort of like the loud rumbles of a thunderstorm. Once, Pike had been scared of thunderstorms, but after Wilhand sat with her and told her what a brave girl she was, and how Kord the Stormlord sent thunderstorms, and how Sarenrae and Kord got along quite well for the most part, they weren’t so scary. She had even grown to like falling asleep to the sound.

What had Grog’s herd been called? The Herd of Storms? Maybe Grog knew about Kord. Pike thought that Grog’s good heart made him stronger than anyone in that herd. Kord would probably like that.

Ever so gingerly, Pike laid down next to Grog, his rumbly snoring becoming a soothing background noise in her ears. Tomorrow, she would cast more healing spells on him and help him grow back to health. Perhaps Wilhand would teach him in the ways of the world, the way he had taught Pike as a toddler. Grog had protected the two of them, and so Pike would protect this massive man in return. But for now, they would simply rest. Together.

Pike woke up against his chest, with massive arms draped around her in a gentle protective embrace.

The next night, she crawled on top of Grog’s torso and fell asleep there, listening to his comforting rumbles and strong heartbeat, feeling his chest rise and fall.

And for a while, every night in the Trickfoot house was the same.


End file.
